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Dark Blood(157)

By:Christine Feehan


The four silent guards watching over Mikhail moved a little closer, as did Gregori, but no one objected to the formal introductions.

“I have much left to do here,” Zev pointed out. “Daciana, Lykaon and Makoce can find you a place to stay until we can make homes within the forest where you’ll be more comfortable.”

He watched his pack move off the battlefield. Life just became a lot more complicated.

I have no doubt that you can handle it.

“We couldn’t get here any faster,” Gregori apologized. “We brought reinforcements, but the barrier kept us out.”

“Xayvion slipped away, but Xaviero is dead. Let’s hope he stays that way,” Zev said.

Mikhail shook his head. “We lost a couple of our warriors, but the Lycans were hit particularly hard it seems.”

“Those closest to the mage were lost,” Zev explained. “He needed souls for his exchange. His toads were more of a delaying tactic but his hellhounds and his Sange rau killed quite a few. He also sent some into the fire before we managed to stop him.” He looked down at the body of his grandfather. “All this time Xaviero had him, torturing him, and I didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Mikhail said sincerely. “And I’m sorry we couldn’t get here faster with more men. Perhaps the losses would have been less.”

“Rolf had the choice to send everyone away,” Zev said, a little surprised at the bitter feeling welling up. “He chose to force his people to stay without even properly warning them or giving them the choice.” He turned his head, his gaze finding the council leader. “Excuse me, please, Mikhail. I need to talk to Rolf.”

“We’ll take your grandfather’s body to the cave of the warriors,” Gregori offered. “We’d like to do something to help.”

Zev inclined his head. He dropped to one knee beside Hemming and rested his palm on his grandfather’s forehead in a silent tribute. It was covered in blood and deep scars where the chains had been. “They would have sentenced him to death. The council. Do you realize that?” He looked up at Branislava. “They killed my grandmother. Not the mage, but her own pack. They would have done the same to Hemming had he not fled in the night with my mother.”

“They only knew the Sange rau,” Branislava reminded gently. “Not the Hän ku pesäk kaikak. They didn’t know there was a difference.”

Zev shook his head and stood, shoving both hands through his hair, looking more a wild wolf than ever. “They would have killed me, Branka. Knowing me, they would still have killed me. All those men.” He waved his hand toward his new pack members who followed Daciana out of the clearing. “There’s no compassion on the faces or in the hearts of the council members for them. Mikhail feels more and he’s a stranger to them. Caleb was right. So was Hemming. They will never be wholly welcomed by our people. I won’t, either. In time, you won’t. They saw what was done to Dimitri, but rather than condemn themselves for being so medieval, they wanted to talk and make excuses. They never really looked at him as a person.”

Branislava laid her hand gently on his arm. “Seeing your grandfather wrapped in chains, seeing what silver can do to a Lycan’s body has really upset you, Zev, as it should, but perhaps it would be much better to wait to speak with Rolf.”

“He didn’t even warn the other Lycans, Branka. He knew the danger and yet he said nothing to them. Had we held the ceremonial service immediately after Arno and Arnau were killed, Xaviero wouldn’t have had time to set up his trap. He would have been forced to hold his ritual somewhere else. I could have tracked him, but Rolf refused even that.”

She rubbed his arm. “I know.” What else could she say? He had argued with Rolf for hours, trying to get him to agree to send the slain council member and his son off the next rising without telling anyone where they would build the funeral pyre. There had been a stubborn set to Rolf’s jaw she’d never noticed in the few times she’d seen him. He had been dismissive, and almost rude to Zev.

Zev leaned into her unexpectedly, his arms pulling her close, just holding her while he breathed away his anger. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, giving him as much strength as she could. All of them were battle-scarred, but she knew this night had taken its toll on her wolf.

Zev brushed a kiss along Branislava’s mouth. “I love you,” he whispered. He didn’t say it often enough to her, he was certain, but he felt it with every breath he took.

“I know. I’ll be right here.”